


Sing to me a litty ditty

by HkHk



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5016349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HkHk/pseuds/HkHk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is hitting a wall at ten miles per hour and sliding down like a bug hitting a windshield. It hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing to me a litty ditty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cocopopo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocopopo/gifts).



It was on one of their tasks that the Inquisitor asked one of her more inane questions. It was quite normal to see their leader scurrying around, picking up every plant and rock and questioning everyone about everything. She even managed to wheedle a story out of Sera who was notoriously tight lipped about her past. So it was quite normal for her to engage Cassandra in a fruitless conversation. Cassandra had gotten used to it, sadly.

Inquisitor Trevelyan was an oddly charming noble and a notorious flirt. She had flirted with anything with a pulse, even Cassandra herself. One may have considered it repulsive but Trevelyan managed to make herself endearing. Even if she wasn’t the Herald of Andraste, her personality managed to salvage any sort of drunken tomfoolery that Trevelyan partook in. It was quite strange, in truth. Sometimes, she seemed to be more of a storyteller than Varric and he was very good at it. Perhaps it was due to her upbringing, the youngest in the Trevelyan household, a failure. 

Sometimes, Cassandra would find the Inquisitor staring at the bottom of an empty glass as if it could tell her the secrets of the world. Does she wonder? Had she spoken to her parents after the Conclave exploded? The Seeker had heard rumors of an older brother, one that was a mage. The Trevelyan's were tied to the Chantry through money or association. Trevelyan always sounded so bitter when she spoke of it. Whatever experience she had soured her opinions of the templars. No matter what she said, or what Commander Cullen said, her position could not be swayed. One day, she will ask what had happened to make Trevelyan so quietly furious. 

“Can you sing to me?” The Inquisitor's eyes were a bright green, a stark flood of color against dark skin and darker hair. "Not the Chant, but something...folksy? You know some folksy stuff, right?" 

“What?”

They were riding back to Skyhold after the victorious mission, Solas and Bull had gone forward, no doubt playing their mental chess leaving them alone. 

“Sing, you know, saying words loudly and usually quickly. Sometimes drunkenly.” 

“Yes, I know what you mean.” Cassandra said gruffly. “Why do you want me to sing to you?” 

“I want to hear your lovely voice.” 

It was said with such earnestness that Cassandra suspected duplicity. “Did Varric put you up to this?” 

Damnable dwarf. 

“What?” Trevelyan looked so innocent that Cassandra knew the truth. 

“So he did.” She made a disgusted noise. 

“What? No. Of course not.” She grinned uneasily. “Umm..forget about it. Forget I even asked.” 

“Could you not sing? You do like the sound of your own voice.” Sometimes that's all she would do, is talk. Fill the void with her blabbering. 

"What? Oh...ho.." The Inquisitor smirked. "Well, yes I do like the sound of my own voice, but my singing voice is quite terrible." 

"Is that so? Something you cannot do? Maker praise it."

“Hey now." She was still smirking, her feelings not hurt at all. "Since you do like wanting to know about me, this might interest you. My singing voice might have been why I was banished from the Templars.” 

Cassandra just raised a single eyebrow. “You jest.” 

“I do not. When have I ever lied or told you something just to trick you?" It was a rhetorical question no doubt. "I was told I made the lay sisters cry in frustrations. The Knight Commander forbade me from singing, still had to memorize the Chant.” 

Cassandra wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her. She knew the Inquisitor was a very guarded person, never really telling the truth about her past. She was also an accomplished liar. Despite that, she is quite capable in pulling the truth out of other people. 

Even Cassandra had to keep a wary distance, despite how much she wants to know the Inquisitor. She admired her. The grubby person they pulled out of the wreckage that was the Conclave was nothing like the being riding on her stallion. This person was the Herald of Andraste, the soon to be Savior of the world. 

Most people would look at the task before the Inquisitor and flee from it. 

She ran towards it. 

It was something to admire. 

//

“You idiot.” 

“She can’t hear you.” Sera drawled. “She’s not magic, ya know.” 

Cassandra whirled on the rogue, sharp words on the tip of her tongue. How dare Sera speak as if didn’t fail her duties and got the Inquisitor almost killed! But the words died as she saw how distraught Sera was. The elf was normally a mass of inappropriate jokes and pranks. While she may be a skilled archer, her personality was something else. And that was her being polite. 

“I know. But that is why we are supposed to be there, for her.” Sera placed her hand against the wall, eyeing the prone figure that was laid upon the bed. “But she’s a grown woman, she knew the risks. Just like we did. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Cassandra didn’t reply. She had been berating herself for what happened and she hadn't really stopped. It was her fault, she should have cautioned the Inquisitor. She was the only one with any dragon slaying experience. 

It was a dragon of some sort, smaller than what they normally stumble across and flee from. She had underestimated it and they had severely underestimated the reach of its claws. The Inquisitor had taken a blow from its tail which had bent her shield in half and sent her flying across the clearing. If it weren’t for Dorian, they would have lost her. 

She was still unconscious, being watched over by a pair of healers, her every breath monitored. They all heard that crack of bone against rock. A loud and heavy thump as she fell, unresponsive even as she hit the ground. For a second, Cassandra feared the worst. Heavy armor may sometimes turn against the owner, hard and unyielding when what was needed was soft padding. The armor took the brunt of the damage, cracked and bent from where it had slammed into the rock outcropping. The Inquisitor was bruised all over, a few cracked ribs and a cracked skull was a cheap price to pay for almost getting turned into a scrambled egg. 

The dragon died. 

They harvested the dragon, taking out hide and bone for Dagna to work on. It still wasn’t worth nearly getting the Inquisitor killed. There was a world to save and yet they nearly get killed fighting a dragon. 

It was infuriating. 

“Don’t get your small clothes in a twist, Seeker.” Sera smirked. “You’d wound yourself up so tightly the next person who does wrong would get exploded on.” 

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Sera.” 

“Yea, yea.” She flapped a hand. “I’ll let you have your alone time. Holler if you need anything. Actually, don’t.”  
//

Normally, Cassandra was not one to stand in vigil. 

“Creators.” She began. 

Perhaps she could fulfill one of the Inquisitor’s requests. It would be something. The last time the Inquisitor had asked anything of her, she had rejected her. The Inquisitor had been flirting and she had put a stop to that. A firm stop. Since then, their interactions were lacking. 

It had to be. They were now worlds apart. 

She hadn’t sang ever since the Conclave. She rarely sang in the first place but for the Divine she would sing. It was easier when there were hundreds of voices, hers one of many, easily eclipsed. Her singing voice was nothing like Leliana. In fact, everyone paled in comparison. The world suffered without Leliana’s singing voice, without her smile. The person she had the pleasure of being her friend had withdrawn since the Divine’s death. 

It was hard to see what's left of her friend underneath that cowl. 

Cassandra began with the first verse from Transformations her quavering voice bouncing in the empty room. It would be so much easier to shout it but that wasn't singing. She was on the second, when her voice faltered. Maker, it had been...what seemed like a long time since she'd ever sang for pleasure or sang much at all. 

“Don’t stop.” The Inquisitor had opened her eyes. "Got some water?" 

After helping the Inquisitor sit up and getting her some lukewarm water, they stared at each other. Cassandra was dressed simply in earth tones, a tunic and breeches. The Inquisitor's head was wrapped in gauze, her face pale, bruises at the places where her flesh had collided with armor. She sat next to the bed, her hand in her lap.

Her words sat in her mouth. She had so much to say about how reckless the other was. About how much she worried everyone. But the words wouldn't come. 

The Inquisitor looked to be in a sorry state and yelling at her would be akin to kicking a puppy. 

"I'm sorry." The Inquisitor began. "I know I was being stupid when we engaged that dragon. We didn't have to. We could have gone around it. I should have....I let my pride get the best of me." 

Vaguely Cassandra recalled herself advising the Inquisitor to not disturb a sleeping dragon. 

"It's just...I wanted to impress you. Since you won't be impressed by my singing or my swordplay." There was a double entendre somewhere in that sentence and Cassandra was not going to go looking for it. "I thought to myself, fighting a dragon would surely raise me in your eyes. But all I got was a headache and pain."

"You needn't impress me. You are already a...magnificent.." Cassandra paused. Now she felt uneasy, uncertain and it was not a feeling she had normally. 

"I wanted to. I wanted to get you something. A gift of sorts." Now the Inquisitor was studying her fingers. "I wanted you to notice me." 

"Notice? I already--" Now she frowned. "You mean, romantically." 

There was only silence. 

"I..I do not.." She wanted to repeat what she told the Inquisitor early. How she didn't like women. How the Inquisitor was her superior. How this wouldn't work. 

Yet she could not speak. The worry had clouded her thoughts, sank into her bones until all she thought was how her heart hurt to see the Inquisitor so injured. That was not love, surely. That was worry. But what did she know of love? She had known only one being intimately and while she may have read many books on the matter, they were pieces of fiction. Real love was flowers and gifts, courtship. It was a painful twinge in the heart when they ride off to battle, a handkerchief tucked away in their breastplate to remind them of you. 

But love was also heartbreak and worry, sorrow and happiness entwined so tightly it felt like the same thing. It was concern and anger when they do something very foolish. 

"You wanted to give me a dragon?" Cassandra focused on something she could understand. Anger was easy to fixate on. 

"A dead dragon." The Inquisitor clarified. "It was supposed to be a romantic gesture." 

"A romantic gesture? How is you dying a romantic gesture!" 

"Well...technically, I wasn't supposed to die during it. We were supposed to kill the dragon and then I'd stand over it triumphantly and then offer the dragon's corpse to you." 

Cassandra scowled. "How...romantic.." She said in a very unimpressed tone. "If you really wanted to court me, you should have gotten flowers, a book of poetry. Something actually romantic." 

The Inquisitor, who had been properly chastised up to this moment perked up. "So if I do get you flowers, poetry and...a picnic in the woods, you'd be intrigued by my offer?" 

"Yes. No. That's not the point." Cassandra took a breath, preparing herself to crush her friend's hopes and dreams. "The point is that I don't like women." 

The Inquisitor deflated. 

"And you're my superior." 

If it were possible, she shrunk even further. 

"But..." Why was she even considering this? Her thoughts drew her back to the concern she felt, the vein that pulsed in her forehead whenever the Inquisitor did something particularly foolish. The dragon hunting while ill advised was...a romantic gesture. Of sorts. No one had ever done anything like that before for her. The nobles who attempted to court her were never able to look past her family name and the prestige it would bring them. Furthermore they would ignore her title as Seeker, her years of work, her devotion to the Chantry. But the Inquisitor was different. "I would like to be properly courted. My way." 

"Flowers, poetry, romantic books from Varric?" The Inquisitor asked from behind her hands.

"If it can be wrangled from him." 

"Then I shall do as commanded Lady Cassandra!" She rolled out of bed, more like fell, made a pained noise and lied on the floor groaning. 

Cassandra raised both eyebrows. "You should remain in bed until the healers tell you so." 

There was more inarticulate noises. 

"Just lie still." She got out of her chair, squatted and picked the Inquisitor up in one swift movement. Deep green eyes looked up into hers. Cassandra stood stock still, her heart racing. Skin to skin, it was far different than being at arm's distance. Her skin felt hot and flushed. Her breath was heavy in her chest. Perfect pink lips pursed. It was like a scene from one of her books, the princess was saved and the knight was seconds away from kissing her. Cassandra lowered her head slightly, a breath's distance away. 

It was then that Josephine walked in.


End file.
